
Class JPS^ll 
Book., l ,j ?p2 



Copyrights Ml ?, 



CQPXMGHT DEPOSIT. 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



l NO CROSS! NO CROWN!" 




Father Glynn's 
Poems 




1922 

THE STRATFORD CO., Publishers 

Boston, Massachusetts 






Copyright, 1922 

The STRATFORD CO., Publishers 

Boston, Mass. 



The Alpine Press, Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 

JUL 26 1922 

©CI.A681242 



Preface 

THESE verses (which some friends call by 
the higher title of poems), were written 
during a busy missionary life. They were writ- 
ten at random, just when the mood came, with 
little of study, less of art and always in a hurry. 
The author's feet know more of the humble 
steps that lead up to the altar and the hospital 
ward than of the steps that lead us to Parnassus 
and the home of the muses. Many of these 
lyrics are forcible descriptions of the virtues 
and activities of the prominent men and women 
of this locality. The verses have been published 
mostly in the local magazines and newspapers 
of Western Pennsylvania during the past 
thirty years. The author, Rev. Thomas J. 
Glynn, chaplain of St. Joseph's hospital, city, 
is also favorably known as a poet-priest and 
inventor. An article on "Interesting People" 
in the December number, 1921, of the American 
magazine, among other interesting things ends 
as follows: "Charles M. Schwab sat in the 
Duquesne club the other day discussing the 
achievements of Tom Glynn." 

" 'Genius,' he observed, 'is as irrepressible 
as the spirit of Tom Glynn itself. Tom is the 



PREFACE 

type of man depicted by the variously attri- 
buted pronouncement. If a man write a better 
book, preach a better sermon or make a better 
mousetrap than his neighbor, though he build 
his house in the woods the world will make a 
beaten path to his door. And that's what has 
happened in Tom's case." 

The author has lived familiarly with the best 
people of all religious denominations and there- 
fore has the kindliest feelings and the broadest 
charity for all in the Brotherhood of Man and 
the Fatherhood of God. During the past eight 
years the author has devoted his life to giving 
religious consolation to the sick in the hospital. 

He is with the hearts that are harrowed by care 

As God and His angels are there. 
And they wear holy veils on their faces, 

Their footsteps can scarcely be heard: 
They pass through this world lily virgins 

Too pure for the touch of a word. 

— The Autlwr. 



N. B. — Whilst introducing the Rev. Father Glynn recently 
at the Duquesne University the Very Rev. Martin Hehir, 
President of the University made the following remarks: 
"Father Glynn who is one of the judges in this oratorical 
contest is an able orator himself. He is also recognized as 
the Poet-Laureate of this Diocese. He is also an inventor 
recognized by the Naval Commission during the World's War, 
therefor we do not exaggerate when we announce that The 
Rev. Father Glynn is one of the most prominent priests in 
America. He could have been as prominent as Schwab or 
Edison in the industrial world had he not chosen to follow 
the much higher priestly vocation." 



CONTENTS 

Page 

In Memory of My Mother .... 1 

In Rest 2 

The White Rose 4 

That Joyous Seventh Inning .... 5 

Modest Nature's Dress 6 

The Vampire Poppy 7 

The Holy Name 8 

Salute of St. Vincent's Alumni Association . 9 

On the Flight of Youth 10 

MacSwiney Died That Erin Might Live . . 11 
Anniversary of Dante Alighieri . . .13 

The Woman With the Golden Tongue . . 14 

A British Wireless Parlor . . . .15 

Welcome to a Sparkling Spring . . .16 

Call for Golden Action 17 

The Shy Narcissus 18 

Sixtieth Wedding Anniversary . . .19 

The Kaiser's Soliloquy 20 

In Memory of Monsignor Joseph Suhr . . 21 
Ezra Wilberforce Lightner . . . .23 
Easter Sign of Life Renewed .... 24 

Recalls Spelling Bee 26 

Bambino, Mio, Home Run King of Swat . . 27 
The Coal Miner 28 



CONTENTS 

Page 

With a Mine Mule 29 

A Water-Power Vision 31 

The Fox and the Crow 33 

To My Master Mr. Frank McKenna . . 35 

An Evening Vision 38 

Sacerdos 42 

Homo 44 

Spring at Alma Mater 46 

Life 48 

To Youth 50 

The Golden American Corn . . . .51 

The Service Star for Humanity . . .52 

A Reminder of Christmas Charity . . .53 

Peace 54 

To Our Rt. Reverend Arch-Abbot . . .55 
The Drowning Babe of Johnstown . . .56 

Poet and Priest 60 

Our Bishop 61 

Millions to Eternal Joy and Peace . . .63 
The Awful Magnificent Oratorio . . .64 

The Prince of Peace 65 

Rev. Mother Bernard, Jubilarian . .66 

Janging the Southside Firemen . . .68 

Frick's Charity 69 

Providence Hospital 70 

The Price of War 71 

Our Lord Left the Ninety and Nine . . .73 

Ode , 74 

The Poor Sparrow 77 

The Hospital Grotto 78 

My Trained Nurse 80 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Irish Canary's Freedom Song . . . .81 
Who Caused the High Cost of Living . . .83 
Father Anastasius Kreidt — Requiescat in Peace 85 
The Millenium Approaches . . . .86 

Mass Celebrated in Johnstown . . .88 

The Yellowstone; Night's Plutonian Shore . . 89 

The Patient Nun 90 

What Does It Profit a Man . . . .91 
Carnegie 93 



Dedicated to 

CHARLES M. SCHWAB 

Captain op Industry Next to the 

Prince-Priest 

FATHER GALLITZIN 

One of Cambria County's Most 

Famous Sons 



In Memory of My Mother 

My Mother was the fairest, sweetest flower in 

our land. 
And blessed was I with a Father who had pious 

care 
Of his seven children, a faithful man of prayer. 
Full oft have poets pictured Madonnas good and 

fair 
And searched the heavens and the, earth for 

ideals rare, 
JLike Dante's love for his Beatrice — bland. 
But my Mother was the most devout on God's 

fair earth, 
For three score years and more, yea from my 

birth 
She cherished me, protected me from every harm 
As she had vowed me to Heaven when I was born. 
Rich and glossy dark was her waving hair, 
Her face and noble brow like the Madonna 's fair, 
But, oh her heart and soul were so full of love 
As could be equalled only by the Mother of God 

above. 



N 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



In Rest 

The Right Rev. Mons. John Boyle 

The saintly Mountains weep, 
A Saint John the Baptist, a Prince Gallitzin 

sleeps, 
And Father John Boyle has gone to his eternal 

rest. 
The virgin snow is now his winding sheet, 
Johnstown and all his Mountain Children weep, 
And mourn a prophet saint who came their souls 

to keep. 
High o'er this Mountain Town he stood, 
Weeping the morning after the fatal flood, 
When all her children weeping, wandered to 

and fro, 
Almost overwhelmed in their awesome woe. 
But in his heart he hears the divine command, 
The beauteous bow of heaven shines o'er this 

stricken land. 
Like Saint John the Baptist he hears the call, 
And vows to heaven he will give his life for all. 



0] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

His zeal was ever active, firm his will, 
In every soul he met, God 's weal he would instill. 
Let us his children pray and never cease 
That God may give his soul eternal peace. 



[3] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



The White Rose 

A large white rose on the altar high 

Keeps smiling at me, I wonder why? 

"St. Dominic placed me here they say 

To wateh and pray on his festal day. 

While Mother Martha is busy in hospital ward, 

The Infant Bambino and I keep guard." 

But a red rose was pleading near by. 

' ' Oh, would that I had always watched on high. ' ' 

Dedicated to 

SISTER BONAVENTURE 

And the Other Good, Kind, 

Hospital Sisters 



[4] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS' 



That Joyous Seventh Inning 

Six times the valiant Nehf 

Retired our boys in gloom. 
But in the famous seventh 

We sent the Giants to their doom. 

Hysteric joy now filled the stands 

As score on score we gained. 
'Twas like a million dollars 

To see the fun that reigned. 

Oh, there is gloom on Broadway, 
Though bright lights flash on high; 

'Tis gleeful Pittsburgh's joyous cry: 
The Mighty Kelly, clever Evers and McGraw, 
the owner, 

Can never forget that day they met 
And pulled the famous boner. 



[5] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Modest Nature's Dress 

All nature at first the Creator blessed, 

And with modest heavenly beauty dressed 

The bronzed bark enshrining trees and plants, 

With beauteous foliage our parents first enchants. 

The haughty rose, fairest beauty known, 

Blooms regally in nature's garden blown. 

Behold again the virgin lily fair, 

That reigns a queen of all the virtues rare. 

Yet the God of nature sweetly says 
Solomon in all his glory never was clothed as 
the least of these. 

The graceful priestly robes we wear, 

Are modest on solemn festals fair. 

And the richest, rarest altars maze 

And bloom with modest flowers our Lord to 

praise. 
When all nature dresses with such modest care, 
Why should not you maidens dress modestly and 

fair? 



[6] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



The Vampire Poppy 

The vampire poppy hath a beauty and a charm, 
More fatal than Cleopatra's graceful arm. 
Within the poppy's pampered, sinful breast, 
The rose, the lily and the modest daisies rest. 
Yet its beauty and its tainted breath 
Bring men a sleep far worse than death. 
The dope fiend shrieks in his lone padded cell, 
And damns the keepers to the lowest hell, 
And cries for more, and more — but one grain 

more. 
"I'll give a million but for one grain more!" 
Beware, beware, in time its fatal glow, 
Its very taste may bring eternal woe. 
The devil may have made the poppy's leaven, 
But God's grace can conquer it, and bring us 

safe to Heaven. 



[7] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



The Holy Name 

Forty thousand strong they came, 
Marched forward for His Holy Name; 
Silent yet loud their acts proclaim 
Reverence for God and His Holy Name. 

Service for God and His Holy Name, 
Service for our free land and its glorious fame, 
A silent protest for those who profane 
The honor of God and His Holy Name. 

The banners of God are the banners of fame ; 
With the Stars and Stripes our faith proclaim ; 
In the land of the free Columbia's fame 
We honor God and His Holy Name. 



[8] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Salute of St. Vincent's Alumni 
Association 

To the Rt. Rev. Hugh C. Boyle, Bishop-Elect of the 
Diocese of Pittsburg 

Our Holy Father has hlest a worthy Mother's 

Son, 
A son of Johnstown, our happy mountain home, 
A Son of St. Vincent's great University, 
A son of Pittsburg's honored see 
Come rosy fingered morn, the mother of dawn, 
Rejoice with us this honored, glorious day! 
Come mellow muse and sing thy sweetest song. 
Come sing thy grandest and most glorious 

melody ! 
Let all Alumni sing with joy and praise, 
Let all St. Vincent's Sons sing happy lays! 
Bishop Boyle, our honored guest, we all salute 

thee with our song ! 
May thy reign be glorious, happy, good and 

long! 
May the Lord protect and bless thee all thy 

days! 
And make thy reign one long, sweet song of 

praise ! 

[9] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



On the Flight of Youth 

(Written on His Sixty-second Birthday ' } Sunday, 
February 5, 1922) 

When youth flies away 

On the wings of time, 
Will kind memory soothe us 

In our heart's decline? 

Will our motives make good 

For the slips of our feet, 
Or might-have-been things 

Seem sad or sweet? 

When our dark, glossy hair 

Gives way to the snow, 
Will the youth of our minds 

Bring back the old glow? 

Will we wish we had walked 
O'er the narrow, straight way, 

That leads to sweet joys 
Of eternity 's day ? 

[10] 




FATHER GLYNN, NOW SIXTY-THREE YEARS OP AGE 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Mac Swiney Died That Erin Might Live 

The British vampire trembles near her fall, 
The ruthless hand of fate points to the wall ; 
As nations sow so shall they reap 
And tumble headlong in a ruined heap ; 

The mightly Babylon fell at Daniel's word, 
And so shall Britain fall across the sword ; 
MacSwiney died as Eleazer died, 
As the seven sons of Maceabee and mother 
died. 

"We would rather die than feast and dine 
On foul, forbidden, pagan swine ; 
We offer our lives to God but not in vain, 
Full well we know that we shall rise again." 

O'er Jerusalem's temple and city fair 

Flew prodigious signs and omens — horses in the 

air; 
The wicked Antiochus now writhes and 

squirms, 
Plagued to his death with gnawing worms. 

["] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

As wicked Babylon and Rome heard the fatal 

call. 
So shall Brixton and the English tower fall. 
MacSwiney died that Erin might live — 
Gave the eternal sacrifice of his life, 
All that man can give. 
The noblest proof of faith and sincerity. 

Can we understand the patriotic desire, 

The long, long fast and vigil, the martyr's fire 

That burns within his heart? — 

Then let us awake and prove our part. 



[12] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Anniversary of Dante Alighieri 

Heavenly choirs and all ye spirits kind 
Come wake my heart and soul and mind 
Sing of the immortal Dante. The man 
Who pierced the infernal regions of the damned 
Where murderous, fratricidal legions planned 
Against the law divine, the eternal plan. 
Where "All who enter here abandon hope," 
In piercing non consuming flames they grope. 
With Virgil leading him through purging 

realms 
They sadly see the highest who held the helms 
Of Peter's Ship; but pride's fame, hireling's 

hire 
Now holds them sad in transient purging fire. 
Now the golden gates of heavenly Paradise 
With Beatrice leading to the skies 
Open to immortal Dante, no more to roam 
This greatest genius has found a glorious home. 



M 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

The Woman With the Golden Tongue 

Dedicated to Margot Asquith 

She is not old, she is not young, 
The woman with the golden tongue ; 
With noble brow and modest eye, 
Her golden words to Heaven fly. 
Christian vestal, virgin sung, 
The woman with the golden tongue ; 
Her kindly speech, her gentle hand, 
Inspire the worthiest of our land. 
Support the just, impel the brave, 
With flowers kindly deck his grave. 
Chaste and pure, a faithful wife, 
And mother, highest form in life, 
True blood will call, true blood will tell. 
As tuneful notes from golden bell, 
In tuneful numbers be she sung, 
The woman with the golden tongue. 



[14] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



A British Wireless Parlor 

A Grey British spider 

Built a wireless on high, 
With antennae the finest 

To please a critic's eye. 
"Come Lodge in my parlor" 

Said this spider to a dove 
"You can bore a nest to suit you 

In its mystic rooms above." 
"Its soft silken curtain 

Has a tone of quiet ease, 
You must not be uncertain, 

As you are the dove of peace." 
In this parlor I have entertained 

The greatest of your land, 
I have dined them, I have wined them 

Until they felt O very bland," 
But the dove says 'I thank you,' 

"I'm aware, John, you've done your best," 
"But the American dove once disturbed in 
love 

Never returns to the same nest." 



[*5] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Welcome to a Sparkling Spring 

Welcomed thou cold, clear sparkling spring 
From kind nature's font distilling, 
Long lost to me. The wines and wiles of art 
And follies' flattery from hence depart, 
joyous purling spring ! boyhood days ! 
When thou did'st quench my thirst always. 
Oft have I longed again to welcome thee 
But habit 's fatal folly hindered me. 
Returned at last thou bringest back my youth 
And happiness supreme. In soothe 
Thou art an angel with mirrored face 
Bringing me both earthly joy and heaven's 
grace. 



[16] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Call for Golden Action 

While treasury groans with bullion 's weight 
I have no coin to pay my freight ; 
My railroad cars and my railway 
Are rusting idle all the day. 

Should gold be stored while men decay? 
Are golden values to be hid away? 
Is good water to be sealed tight in reservoir 1 
Whilst the land below is parched by fire? 

My barns are burdened with golden wheat, 
Whilst my men cry out for some to eat ; 
Why not bring out your golden steeds, 
And make them useful for our needs? 

Bring out your golden chariots' store; 
Awake our industries from shore to shore; 
Make use of gold that came our ways, 
And God will bless you all your days. 



[17] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



The Shy Narcissus 

Come sweet shy Narcissus, Asphodel, 
Why leave the nymphs so lonely from thy spell V 
Art thou the poppy's long lost child, 
Wandering through meadows and forest wild? 
Who was thy father or thy mother kind 
Begetting thee on the wings of the wind? 
Why dost thou gaze into the fount's clear face, 
Mirage like to see thy own sweet self always ? 
Pine, pine, pine away. 
Who seeks self alone, seeks sure decay. 
The nymphs will lift thee from thy cenotaph. 
The muses sing thy dirge and epigraph 
The gods protect thee from all evil charms 
And place thee in thy lily mother's arms. 



[18] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Sixtieth Wedding Anniversary 

Of Mr. and Mrs. John A. Schwab, Parents of 
Charles M. Schwab 

Sing, sing, sweet Muses, sing today ! 

0, sing a joyous, golden melody ! 

Sing of the sixty jeweled years, 

Sing of the father and mother rare, 

Sing of their children's joys without fears. 

All Cambria 's sons and daughters fair, 

Salute their noble, virtuous pair. 

The good Loretto sings thy praise, 

In the beautiful chapel thy son did raise. 

Johnstown and Altoona sing on high, 

And all the Mountains send joyous cry, 

And thank the Lord in all His ways. 

0, may thy years grow in virtue, more and more, 

To gain, at last, Heaven's happy shore. 



[*9] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



The Kaiser's Soliloquy 

"I am the Great Samsonian Amazonides, 
When I thundered forth my unter boats 
I hurled the British dreadnaughts howling to 

their gods, 
(And the gay fickle Paris hid himself in Helen's 

cloak) 
I tore the mighty Czar from his tyrant throne 
And lifted his servile Slavs to rule their own, 
I challenged the Great Goddess of American 

Liberty 
In New York's noble bay, 
And I made her eagle scream with fright, 
Whilst she flew from the White Mountain to the 

Rockies 
To gather her brave men and branded gold. 
But the Eagle came, saw and conquered 
And now I die as Belshazzar died, 
As Cheops, Alexander, Caesar and Napoleon 

died. 
My destiny and fate I leave to God, 
My poor, weak body to the silent sod." 



[20] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



In Memory of Monsignor Joseph Suhr 

Monsignor Joseph Suhr hears the Divine call, 
Bowed to the Eternal Will that ever beckons all. 
Ad sum, I am here, Lord, he said, 
As on ordination's morn he bows his head. 
Few men have had so many gifts combined, 
Grace, piety and learning artly joined. 
Active like Martha in building God's temples 

fair, 
Yet passive like Mary ever devout in prayer. 
A massive fund he had of theologic lore, 
Science, wisdom, knowledge more and more, 
Yet he was as unassuming as a child, 
Meek and humble and wonderfully mild. 
To come before his presence was a learned feast, 
And each returned a better man, a better priest. 
Service for God he ever kept in view, 
The pillar of our diocese, we priests all knew. 
His faith shone o 'er the mystic paths of strife, 
And helped us all to lead a higher life. 
His life was such as to test the poet's pen, 
But surely seldom shall we see his like again. 

[21] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

Outstanding and distinguished among his 

fellow men, 
He hears the Requiescat, Gloria, and the grand 

Amen. 



[22] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Ezra Wilberforce Lightner 

Dead ! No ! Such men can never die ! 

The cultured spirit that enshrined him 

Must live as long as art can live. 

A change has come upon the spirit of his dream 

That wafts him to the stars he loved so well. 

Sweet symphonies and rhapsodies 

"Welcome him to the kindly light of Heaven, 

Where Lizst will welcome him 

To see Murillo 's Virgin and Madonna fair, 

And all the choirs of Heaven will sing, 

"Here is a man who knew and loved his fellow 

men 
And lived life well, according to the lights he 

knew. ' ' 



[23] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Easter Sign of Life Renewed 

As melodiously worded by Strickland Gillilan — 
"Oh, book that first proclaimed the story of lives re- 
lived in greater glory! Full proof of everything you 
say lies all about on Easter day, when flowers, even as 
souls of men, rise from their tombs and live again" — 
so is the significance of the celebration expressed by 
the chaplain in St. Joseph's Hospital: 

The glorious, joyous sun of Easter morn 
Proclaims the resurrection of Christ reborn. 
The heavens proclaim the Lord has risen, 
The angel announes the tomb is riven. 

The ever faithful Mary's call, 

The Lord has risen radiant over all. 

All men and maidens lift your eyes on high, 

The face of nature blooms with majesty. 

Now love and sacrifice have been esteemed, 
The tragic drama closes with mankind re- 
deemed. 
All nature mirrors forth the Redeemer's love 



M 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

The Lord triumphant reigns on His throne 

above. 
Oh, would that we might rise from sin's melee, 
And crush the serpent's head this glorious day. 



[25] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Recalls Spelling Bee 

Ah, Mr. Editor, you must have a heart to please 
Going back in mem'ry to those "spellin' bees." 
Fifty years and more in Johnstown's Mountain 

schools 
When but a boy of 10 I kept the rules, 
We had no domestic science of the vocational 

training brand 
Except that our good, old mother taught us o 'er 

the land. 
But we could spell Popocatapetl and iztac- 

cihuatl, too, 
Renaissance with punctuality and rendezvous. 
Ah, I was a proud, little hero on Exhibition 

Day, 
When I spelt down my Prof. S. B. McCormick 

on "chamois." 
He spelt it "shammy" as it sounded that way, 
But I fear he was shamming on Exhibition Day, 
Now we are editors, priests, lawyers, doctors 

and business men, 
But the "spellin' bees" brought out the best in 

us then. 

[26] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Bambino Mio, Home Run King of Swat 

Bambino Mio, Home Run King of Swat, 

Ten million fans await the happy day — 

(A Merry Christmas Day) 

Ten million joyous boys, men aged and gray — 

When they may see and feel thy scepter's magic 

sway. 
Lo ! gods and goddesses now fill the stands, 
While shimmering fans keep time with jazzing 

bands, 
And wait with high suspense to see or read 
Of the magic circle being squared indeed. 
How mighty Yellow Horse must smile on thee, 
And Johnson feed his ins and outs to thee, 
While fifty thousand "fans" shriek shouts to 

thee 
To swat the "pesky pill" high o'er the Forbes 

Field wall 
And "smash" all records. "Yea, Babe Ruth," 

kill the ball, 
Thou greatest Home Run King of all ! 



[27] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



The Coal Miner 

Down deep in dreary, darkened cavern's gloom 
The miner hastens early to his daily doom. 
A solemn stillness rules what e'er the fates be- 
tide; 
Eternal darkness reigns on every side. 

The dimmed light upon his greasy cap 
Reminds him of the dreaded gas mishap. 
Full prone he lies upon his weary back 
And its pick, pick, pick, crack, crack, crack. 

Oft in the sordid gloom his day dreams rise ; 
He hopes a better fate for his own boys. 
Full oft the ambulance in dreary black 
Brings home his corpse or with a broken back 
And it's pick, pick, pick or crack, crack, crack. 

As the miner is most worthy of his hire 
Those crushing him should dread eternal fire. 
But men must work and women pray 
And the Lord help the miner to keep the wolf 
away. 

[28] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



With a Mine Mule 

When but 13 years of age he had to quit his 

school. 
Although he was not tall he thought he knew it 

all, 
So at 60 cents a day, non-union pay, 
He tried to drive a mule. 
The mule looked meek and mild, and as the boy 

was rather wild, 
He pitied the poor mule ; 
For this mule seemed much too slow for a boy 

that wished to go 
At some pace. 

So he lashed the mule with a thorny switch, 
And soon was landed in a ditch quite surprised 

at his disgrace, 
Then he climbed upon his back to dispute the 

right of way, 
When he came to a pile of slack the mule knelt 

as if to pray, 
Then he rolled him off his back, rolled over 10 

times, I say. 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

When he got up, the mule shook himself quite 

gay. 
Yet he mounted him again to have his own way 
But still this stubborn mule kept up his kicking 

rule. 
And as the boy wasn't born a fool he resolved 

to quit this mule, 
To return a wiser youth to school, this time to 

stay, 
But before he quit, as he had some wit he had 

the boys 
To strike and win 85 cents a day. 



[30] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



A Water-Power Vision 

All human knowledge is a relative thing ; 
Depends like peace on what our minds can 

bring, 
Some minds the mystic depths of faith perceive, 
And found their knowledge on divine belief. 

Had our minds the radium's active glow, 
To see through all with X-ray's radiant flow, 
Ten trillion miles the eye could see with ease, 
Bring near the distant Vega and sublime 
Betelgese, 

But yesterday we smiled at aerial flight, 

Yet Langley made the plane of motor used by 

Wright. 
Marconi sends us wireless over the seven seas; 
Edison gives light and music enshrined our 

souls to please. 

Providence hides nature's secrets in the soil, 
That a Madame Curie, may discover radium by 

her toil, 
What may be next for greatest power of all? 
Gravitation with the buoyant water's fall. 

[3i] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

The magnetic force of gravitation's speed, 
Controlled by man may give us all we need ; 
When we may sit and sing all day in ease, 
Enjoy forever the golden age of peace. 



O] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



J. M. J. 

My first poem dedicated to my beloved Professor 
Father Tabb, the poet-priest. He was delighted with 
my first boy-hood effort and presented me kindly with 
a volume of Poe's Poems. I shall always remember 
him in my prayers as he taught me first how to love 
the good, the true and the beautiful. 



The Fox and the Crow 

In times of old the story goes, 
That beasts could speak as well as crows ; 
Who oft their joyful praises sung, 
With artful use of golden tongue. 

One morn in merry month of May, 
As Reynard goes his stealthy way; 
A Crow is sitting in the trees, 
In calm content and happy ease. 

Now Reynard raised his cunning eyes, 
To see if aught he might surprise ; 
And looking keenly to the sky 
Espied the Crow a sitting high. 

[33] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

Then peering once again he sees, 
That in her beak she holds some cheese, 
Resolving then with might and main, 
The tempting morsel to obtain. 

And turning to the silly bird, 
He thus addressed with flattering word, 
"My charming friend, how sweet you look, 
Your plumes reflect the silvery brook." 

"They say your voice is very sweet, 
You with the morning lark compete. 
And if 'tis true you sing so well, 
You are the queen of all the dell." 

The Crow elated now with pride, 
Began to swing from side to side ; 
Then trying hard some notes to trill, 
The cheese it fell from out her bill. 

Now Reynard ran and took the cheese, 
And hastened 'neath the lofty trees; 
Reflecting on his homeward way; 
The lesson taught the Crow that day. 

Moral; Beware of flattery! Beware of vain 
pride, that often lures us on the brink of a 
precipice and then like a fiery thunder-bolt 
hurls us to destruction. 

[34] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



J. M. J. 

TO MY MASTER MR. FRANK MeKENNA 



Youthful master we must leave thee. 

Our studies now are nearly o'er; 
On the morrow we must part thee, 

Many may not see thee more. 

But where e'er our duties take us 
O'er the thorny path of life 

Thy good precepts e'er will make us 
Ever ready for the strife. 

In the midst of joy and sorrow 
And the future's cares unknown 

We will ever ever love thee 
Love thee, love thee as our own. 

Now in parting we do leave thee 
Something better far than gold 

We do leave thee our affection 
And our cherished love of old. 

[35] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

Now when future joys o'ertake thee, 
Thou wilt think of joys of old; 

So dear master we will give thee, 
All our names in story told. 

II 

Sweeny and Lavelle are looking 
Toward Pennsylvania shore 
Fitz and Murphy both are sleeping 
As they often slept before 
Gerry loves his latin grammar 
More than story books of old 
Grady smiling says 'tis true 
Looking back at Donahue 
Slade and Farren ne 'er repine 
Of the joys of olden time 
And 'Conner now no longer 
Sits upon the organ stool 
Little Lynott says to Mylott, 
"Walsh is going home by rail 
And now McCallen never wails 
When he ties the foxes tails 
Mr. Riley spoke so highly 
Of MeAndrews when he sung 
That little Peter says he's sweeter 
Sweeter far than Master Dunne 

[36] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

Harrig says he'll strike no more 
He thinks his striking days are o 'er 
Bean and Buckley both are sighing 
For the joys of long ago 
And the Lynches both are trying 
How to find where time does flow 
Kelly, Keely and O'Donnel 
All are growing wise with love 
Stoltz and Wallace both are singing 
As they sung in days of yore 
McGuinness often loves to tell 
Of the 6th he liked so well 
And Riley says he'll ne'er forget 
The kindness that he always met 
Our little rhyme we now will end 
With Kinney Walsh and Renehend. 



"«-! 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



An Evening Vision 

All day long, the ball was rolling, 
Rolling, rolling o 'er the lawn ; 

We were weary then from strolling, 
"We had played from early dawn. 

Sweetly sang the evening warbler, 
Softly tolled the vesper bell ; 

Slowly o 'er us came a slumber, 
In this silent peaceful dell. 

Now before us rose a vision, 
That enrapt our souls with joy ; 

For no fairer scene Elysian 
E'er appeared beneath the sky. 

Sweet Rome before our view did rise, 
With all her noble Hills so fair ; 

St. Peter's seemed to kiss the skies, 
So sweet and balmy was the air. 

lovely Rome! the Pilgrim's home, 
With all Thy scenes so fair ; 

Thy marble halls Thy sacred walls, 
Do tell us God is there, 

[38] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

Long did we gaze upon this scene, 
So often sung in sweetest song ; 

When lo ! an angel fair serene, 
Now came to lead us gently on. 

Within St. Peter's holy shrine 

We wend our joyful way; 
The holy pilgrim needs no sign 

To tell him now to pray. 

Sweet strains of music o'er us come, 
While rapt in sweet and silent prayer; 

A grand procession moves along, 
Sweet-smelling incense fills the air. 

The scene is changed; we pass along 
A silent shady wooded way; 

Rome's greatest school we look upon, 
The students all come out to play. 

We looked to see if we might know, 

Among the joyous throng 
But one among them all ; when lo ! 

A score or more come on. 

The first to take us by the hand 

Was Bingham, bright and fair; 
The next was Buckley, from the band, 
And Gwynn with modest air. 

[39] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

Now Gerry comes upon the scene, 
And greets us with a smile ; 

And Farron looking quite serene, 
Keeps bowing all the while. 

Fitzpatrick now upon the stand, 
Says : What does all this mean ; 

But close behind him comes the band 
They call the royal team. 

Now Kenefick adds to our joys, 
With Kelly, Keeley, both along, 

Surrounded by the other boys ; 
McAndrews sweetly sings a song. 

Now Lynch comes forward with a bow, 
And welcomes us to Rome; 

And Murphy with inquiring brow, 
Says: How is dear old home." 

Now Wagner not unknown to fame 
Comes with O'Connor bold; 

And Harrig whom we love the same, 
With Johnny Maher of old. 

Now Watterson so bright and fair, 
With Grady comes to view; 

And Bean with unassuming air, 
With Fox bids us adieu. 

[40] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

As all things human have an end, 
And many are not what they seem, 

So we awoke; there's no amend 
To find 'twas all, a pleasant dream. 



[4i] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Sacerdos 

Sing, sing, sweet Muses, sing to me, 
sing a joyous melody! 
Sing not of Passion's fleeting wine, 
But sing of heavenly love divine. 

A bright-eyed boy with golden hair, 
Sang with his mother pure and fair, 
The mother smiled on her beauteous boy 
Her fondest hope, her dearest joy. 

The song has ceased, the mother prays 
Her boy be kept from sinful ways, 
That God would guard her darling child 
And make him noble, pure and mild. 

The boy beholds his mother's face 
Bright with the beams of heaven's grace, 
' ' Mother, ' ' he cries, ' ' fear not for me, 
A holy priest of God I'll be !" 

He plods in pain through grammar rules 
Pale is his face from lore of schools, 
His wit is keen, he gives and takes, 
Low cutting puns he never makes. 

[42] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

Long years roll on since he began, 
The child was father to the man; 
He loved his books, he loved his play, 
Yet, life was not a Summer's day. 

The world looked bright, serene and grand 
Temptations came on every hand ; 
"0 God," he prays, "if it must be, 
Give thou me grace, strengthen me!" 

Grace comes at last, the youth has won 
The noble fight so well begun ; 
God 's holy sign is on his brow, 
And seraphs bright before him bow. 

happy, happy child of grace ! 
So blessed among the chosen race ; 
Well may thy friends rejoice in bands 
When blest by thy anointed hands. 



[43] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Homo 

Six thousand years have cycled o'er this sphere 
Since Heaven evolved the human form divine, 
Immortal proud he stands without a peer 
The noblest being in creation's line; 
The burning cherubim would fain opine 
What new-born god beclouds the lord of day, 
What child of nature mazed with nature's 

wine, 
Now low adores, now humbly kneels to pray, 
'Tis Man immortal mortal Man that claims our 
lay. 

Nature's nursling he cons the fairy tales 
Of science and of art. In youth's patrol 
He loves the mountains high ; the shady vales 
Sing sad and silent music to his soul, 
'er pleasant paths of poesy he loves to stroll ; 
He looks not back, the scorn of weak mankind 
But speeds his course to gain the destined goal, 
And though he fail Parnassian gold to find 
The royal realms he trod bring solace to his mind. 

[44] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

The silvery songs of youth console his prime 
While pondering deep with philosophic norm, 
Now molecules with plastic nature twine. 
Then passive Matter with the active Form 
He artly joins ; the strong Scholastic arm 
He wisely wields and thereon builds this 

world, 
Then steals the fire from Heaven, even from 

the storm 
And around the Earth the lightning message 

twirled 
That Man was lord of all with freedom's flag 

unfurled. 

But lo ! the golden doors of Heaven unfold, 
The mysteries dread, the mystic heights 

sublime 
Of grace, election, triune God of old 
Imbue his soul. Eternity and Time 
With Immortality inspire his rhyme; 
Profound abyss, Infinity! To die! 
To see the good reward, the end of crime; 
The unconscious brute lifts not his head on 
high, 
'Tis reasoning Man alone that peers into the sky. 



[45] 




Spring at Alma Mater 

ST. VINCENTS ARCH ABBEY 



Season of beauty and emerald loveliness 

Thy magic charm my soul now sweetly lures, 

What kindred spirit brings thee forth to bless 

The barren earth o'er hills and dales and 

moors ? 

Calm peaceful Spring, who would not rather 

dream with thee 

Than feel the poignant pangs of stern reality ? 

Dear Alma Mater, thou art ever fair, 

No season mars the beauty of thy face ; 
Thy sacred hills invite, the balmy air 

Thy towers and walls repose in classic grace, 
Still, still, 'tis Spring, the happy, tranquil, 
lovely Spring 
That crowns thy childrens joys, that makes 
thy songsters sing. 

[46] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

How beautiful thy mountains rise afar 

The undulating hills rest at their feet ; 
The quiet city with its gates ajar 

"Where weary strangers ever welcome meet ; 
The fiery steed of steel with palace rich and 
grand 
Now flys with lightning speed throughout this 
verdant land. 

How oft in pleasant mood the students stroll 
Along the dear, old "Cherry Path" to view 
The broad expanse of heaven seen from the knoll, 

Then roll the frenzied eye to visions new, 
Thus ease the wearied mind o'ertaxed with learn- 
ing's store. 
Too soon, too soon, alas! those happy days 
are o'er. 

How oft they sit within that quiet shade 

Where Musicant so loved to sing and play, 
Where boom ha sa sa joyous laughter made 

And liquid music oft inspired the lay. 
Ah! bring me back again those happy days of 
old, 
And you make keep your formal feasts, your 
banquets lined with gold. 



[47] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Life 

I sat by the sea one summer morn 
And gazed o'er the face of the deep, 

The breakers roared by the surge upborne, 
As the cliffs were high and steep. 

And the problem of life arose in my mind 

As the waves came rolling by, 
But never an answer could I find 

In the ocean's solemn cry. 

I asked two friends who sat by my side, 
"Who were reared mid the lore of the schools, 

And one in simple terms replied, — 
" 'Tis the force of molecules." 

But the other refuted in terms more sound, 
And soared as a bird on the storm; 

"The essence of life," said he, "is found 
In the union of matter and form." 

Then I turned to a youth who gently came 
Along with a maiden fair; 
" 'Tis love, true love, with hope of fame," 
He replied, with a joyous air. 

[48] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

Then an aged sire came wandering near, 
His speech was wise, his step was slow; 

"Life," said he, as he dropped a tear, 
' ' Is a mixture of joy and woe. ' ' 

"For, I feel with the Bard that life is a stage, 

And all the world are players; 
Play well your part at every age, 

In the midst of your joys or cares." 

"If your part's well played, there's hope from 
above, 

There is hope on the boundless shore; 
For there we shall rest in peace and love, 

And mysteries shall be no more. ' ' 



C49] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



To Youth 

The river of youth is a wonderful stream, 
Though many men hold it as only a dream ; 
Its fountains are sparkling with gems and with 

gold, 
Its borders adorned with beauties untold. 
Oh, why does it flow now so swiftly along, 
Discoursing sweet music with roundelay song? 
Sail on, my dear child, in thy boat down the 

stream, 
Too soon thou 'It awake from thy beautiful 

dream ! 
Beware of the rapids that lie in thy way ; 
Beware of the siren that sings all the day ! 
Be just, and fear not, though the billows may 

roar, 
Thou 'It safely arrive on Eternity's shore. 



[50] 




FATHER GLYNN'S" MOTHER MARY 

BROTHER JAMES 

AND 

SISTER-IN-LAW ELIZABETH 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



The Golden American Corn 

O, for a quaff of the golden meal corn, 

As it refreshed my boyhood in early spring 

morn. 
How often I sang with the birds on the hill, 
As the miller was grinding his corn at the mill. 
How often I relished corn mush and cake, 
That only my good mother knew how to make. 

The famed Dr. Johnson enjoyed his oat meal, 

And Boswell and Colonel confessed to its weal. 

The canny old Scot, and the brave Irish boy, 

All sing of its flavor and sing of its joy. 

They loved porridge and bread 

From the day they were born. 

But give me my golden American corn. 

Let us sing its praises like the gallant Jack Tar, 

For on mush we must win this terrible war. 



[5i] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



The Service Star For Humanity 

THE BABE OF BETHLEHEM 

The service Star of Bethlehem illumines the 
night, 
A Babe Divine is born, in arms of Mother 
fair, 
Angelic choirs now calm the Shepherd's fright. 
Heaven and earth unite in golden links of 
prayer. 
The Blessed Damoiselle, Virgin pure as snow 
Now lifts to heaven the poet's eye in fine 
frenzy glow. 

So shines the Service Star of Bethlehem radiant 

flow, 
With kultur of Huns and Goths again laid low, 
Deposing the powerful tyrants from their 

throne, 
Exalting the humble to heaven's zone. 
The Divine Babe of Bethlehem, the Service 

Star for humanity, 
Will shine with providental sheen o'er all, 
for eternity. 

[52] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



A Reminder of Christmas Charity 

Ye men of wealth, whom God has blest 

"With smiling plenty's store, 
When planning pleasure's future feast, 

Do not forget the poor. 

How oft I gazed into the shops, 

How oft I thought to stead; 
A penny's worth of baker's bread 

Was oft my daily meal. 

And now when I recall those days 

That many still endure, 
I ask the rich with all my heart 

To not forget the poor. 



[S3] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Peace 

Come mellow Muse and sing thy sweetest lay, 
Come sit with me beneath the olive tree 

And sing of Peace in tranquil melody. 
Now dawns the morn of bright supernal day, 

And horrid War now hies in shame away, 
The beauteous bow of heaven now smiles serene, 

The Golden Age of Peace now reigns supreme 
And holds the world enraptured 'neath its sway. 

No more of War for bawdy sailors brawl 
Nor haughty Pride nor green-eyed Jealousy 

Shall might make right; but Love reciprocal 
Shall rule the world in kindred sympathy. 

happy days! O calm Elysian skies! 

Fain would I rest within thy Paradise, 



[54] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



To Our Rt. Reverend Arch-Abbot 

On the Festival of His Patron 
ST. LEANDER, FEBRUARY 27. 

Leander, loved of God, rejoice to day, 
Empyrean grace imbues thy placid soul; 
All things to all, thou lovest the humbler way 
Nor doth thy throne impede thee from the goal. 
Dominion's dulcet charm hath nought for thee, 
E 'en though the jeweled crown bedecks thy brow. 
Religion's ark glides safely o'er the sea, 

AH storms surcease, the peaceful olive bough 
Rules all supreme. Leander — not the youth 
Charmed by fair Hero o 'er the sounding main — 
Honors this day, but Seville 's Saint ; bright truth 

Adorns his name. Error he drove from Spain* 
But still to thee we turn our father dear, 
Before thy throne we come to praise thy name, 
may'st thou live to see the golden year 
That cycles on to bring thee heaven's fame. 



The Church prays, "Deus, qui Arianani pravitatein Beati 
Leandri .... doctrina et meritis ab Hispania repulisti; 
da plebi tuae etc." 

[55] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



The Drowning Babe of Johnstown 

Above our quiet city stood 

A village bright and fair, 
For peace and plenty filled its homes 

And joy was everywhere. 
'Twas evening, and the sun had set 

Behind the western hill, 
The moon had risen in the east 

And all was clear and still. 
Sweet music o'er the waters came 

To soothe the rustic mind, 
And merry laughter filled the air, 

For joy was unconfined. 
But soon a change came o 'er the scene, 

The winds began to rise, 
The storm-king raged upon the plain 

The lightning filled the skies; 
The thunder shook the mighty hills, 

The mountains groaned with pain ; 
The heavens above with violence rent, 

Poured forth the fatal rain. 
It rained in torrents all night long, 

It rained the live-long day, 

[56] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

The pious country-people prayed, 

The rain might pass away. 
The waters soon began to rise 

And leap the highest bound, 
The people fled towards the hill 

Where safety could be found. 
Down, down, the raging torrent rushed 

From mountain, hill and dale, 
The roaring waters dashed along, 

And filled our lovely vale. 
Near by the village stream there dwelt 

A happy, happy pair: 
One only child had blessed their life, 

And it was very fair. 
A boat was moored beside their home 

To bear the babe away, 
The mother sat close by the crib 

Wherein her darling lay; 
The rowers pulled with might and main 

To gain the nearer side, 
But oh ! the crib fell off the boat 

Into the raging tide. 
"My child, my child!" the mother shrieked 

"0 save my darling child!" 
She breathed a prayer and then she leaped 

Into the waters wild. 
She struggled with the muddy wave, 

[57] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

She heard the waters roar; 
The boatman grasped her by the arms 

And bore her to the shore. 
Far off upon the current swift 

The crib and babe were seen, 
The mother took one longing look, 

Then fell upon the green. 
The people ran along the banks, 

Some stood the child to see; 
The babe then waved its tiny hand 

As if in childish glee. 
' ' save my child, my darling child ! ' ' 

The loving mother cried; 
But on the raging waters sped 

To fill the foaming tide, 
' ' The bridge, the bridge ! ' ' the people cried, 

That stood upon the shore, 
For soon the crib must strike the bridge, 

'Twas nearing more and more; 
' ' Who '11 save the child ! ' ' near by the bridge 

Was heard the piercing cry, 
Then spoke a hardy son of toil, 

"111 save it though I die!" 
He sprang upon the swaying bridge, 

It shook from side to side; 
The flood came rushing o'er the rail, 

He saw the foaming tide; 

[581 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

He knelt upon the bridge's edge, 

And held fast to the strand, 
The crib came dashing swiftly by, 

The babe was in his hand. 

Sequel 

Though the innocent Babe was saved that day, 
Yet scarce two years had passed away 
When the fatal, deadly Dam gave way 
And, alas, made two thousand graves 
For Our Decoration Day. 



[59] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Poet and Priest 

Silver and gold they had none to display, 
Yet the lame walk with joy, the blind see God's 

day. 
The poet and priest inspired from above 
Give all they have, and give all for love. 
If none be poets save the saints on high, 
The heartless man can never know, can never 

see the sky, 
The tyrant and the king may sit coldly on the 

throne 
Yet never know the humane heart or feel it as 

their own. 
The priest himself must know, before the altar 

shrine 
To lead his little flock to heaven's love divine. 
Yet all are priests and all are poets rare 
Who have a heart to feel, who have a heart 

to care, 
Who loves the good, the beautiful and true, 
Is both priest and poet if he loves both God 

and you. 



[60] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Our Bishop 

(An Acrostic.) 
In Honor of His Diamond Birthday. 

Our Bishop Phelan, hail, all hail, Sir Knight! 
Upon thy natal day we turn to thee, 
Rejoice, defender brave of truth and right, 

Bishop and Priest, we sing thy melody. 
In sooth thou wert a noble giant born, 
Still meek as gentle lamb at mercy's call, 
High heaven's richest gifts were sent the morn 
On which thou madest the step and gave thine 

all 
Peace hath been thy watchword. The olive 

bough 

Rules all supreme. Thy valiant strong right 

arm 
In peace and war defends us from the foe, 
Controls thy See serene, preserves from harm. 
Hail, honored chief! Hail, worthy lord! All 

hail! 

[61] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

And may thou reach the goal, four score and 

more 
Revolving years with deeds. Then may a gentle 

gale 
Drive thy good Argosy to heaven's golden 

shore. 



[62] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Millions for Eternal Joy and Peace 

A rich man died who placed his trust 
In gilt-edged bonds and golden dust. 
Dame fortune gave him a wand and horn 
Upon the morn that he was born. 
He blew his horn and waved his wand 
And giants rose to seal his bond. 
What e'er he touched like genii of old 
Changed at once to molten gold. 

"I'd give a hundred millions without alloy, 

If I could have eternal joy. 

My heaven I'd have here below 

With no human pain or human woe; 

And millions more I would increase, 

Could I but have eternal peace. 

Who dies with millions dies disgraced, my cry," 

Then leads his camel to the needle's eye. 

Yet the angel guarding the golden gate 
Says, "I'm sorry, but you failed below to make 
a date." 



[63] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



The Awful Magnificent Oratorio 

When the Almighty first whirled this universe 

into space, 
The Systems sang a grand, obedient harmony 

of praise. 
Each planet, submissive to its Sun, sang milder 

melodies, 
But all choired "Holy, Holy God of Love 
We bow before Thy power above. ' ' 
Some Suns, inclined to wander from the fold, 
Were warned by fiery Comet bold, 
Yet heedless of their fate, the Comet returned, 
Ope'd its fiery jaws; consumed and burned, 
Their ashes now make up its radiant trail. 



[64] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



"The Prince of Peace" 

(Dedicated to the Sisters of St. Joseph Hospital) 

Come, mellow Muse, and sing thy sweetest lay, 
Come sit with me beneath the olive tree 
And sing of Peace in tranquil melody, 
The Prince of Peace evolves supernal day, 
And horrid War now hies in shame away. 
The beauteous bow of Heaven will smile serene, 
The Golden Age of Peace will reign supreme 
And hold the world enraptured 'neath its sway. 
No more of War, for greed of gold or power, 
Nor haughty Pride, nor green-eyed Jealousy 
Shall might make right; but Love reciprocal 
Shall rule the world in kindred sympathy. 
Peace on earth, to all men free 
And Glory to our God shall be, 
happy days! calm Elysian skies, 
Fain would I rset within thy Paradise. 



[65] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Rev. Mother Bernard, Jubilarian 

Our Mother, loved of God, rejoice today, 

Ursula 's virgin grace imbues thy soul ; 

Rejoice, sweet virgin doves, rejoice and pray. 

Rejubilate! Our Mother's silvery goal 
Enshrines this day, dear Mother Bernard, 
Virgin fair, we crown thee queen today. 
E'en though the jeweled gem adorns thy brow, 
Religion's ark glides safely o'er the sea. 
Enjoy thy throne today, thy olive bough 
Now rules supreme on thine own jubilee. 
Dominion's dulcet charm may rule the world. 

Mother, thy banner is to heaven unfurled, 
mayst thou live to see the golden year 
That cycles on to bring the heaven's fame. 
Happy, we sing today, our Mother dear, 
Empyrean hymns we chant to praise thy name. 
Rejoice, rejoice, with song rejoice we all. 

[66] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

Blessed the morn thou vowed to heaven's call 
E 'er yet the world entrance thee with its sheen, 
Resolved to be none but religion's queen. 
No more for praise, no more for haughty pride, 
All things to all, none but sweet heaven's bride. 
Resolving deeds with years 'till virtue's score 
Deals out thy golden crown on heaven's shore. 



[67] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Janging the Southside Firemen 

Jang, jang, jang — 
Jang, jang — 

Jang, jang, jang. 
Hear the Southside fire alarm; 
Watch the prancing horses warm; 
Watch the silvery harness fall 
To the horses from the wall. 
Away they go up Carson street, 
Trucks, wagons and fiery engine fleet, 
Galloping, prancing, on they go, 
To drown the fire in tenement row. 
Ben-Hur never made a swifter pace, 
Nor Roman charioteer in the race, 
The noblest steeds, the bravest men, 
E'er described by tongue or pen. 

Clang, clang, clang — 
See the blazing house and sky; 
Watch the brave firemen climb on high, 
Hear the roaring water fall, 
Jang — the fire 's out, that 's all. 



[68] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Frick's Charity- 
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall mercy- 
gain. 
Frick gave his millions to soothe the poor 

man's pain. 
He kindly kept the golden rule so true, 
Do to others as you would have others do to 

you. 
He made his millions from the poor man's toil, 
He could not take, them with him to the soil. 
Millions make a burden more than most can 

bear, 
Millions he gave for charity, share for share. 
God made each man to play his humble part, 
Some are losers, some are gainers from the 

start. 
Some build monuments to please the human 

ken, 
Others act with mercy and gain the hearts of 

men. 
No man can safely judge his fellow man, 
None but God alone doth know the royal plan, 
Each for each and all for all, 
And all alike must face the final call. 

[69] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Providence Hospital 1918 

Providence Hospital claims ten Sisters rare. 

All rise at five to offer prayer. 

Sister Ligouri now rules with care, 

And Serena guards her Virgin Grotto fair. 

Elizabeth counts her microbes by X-Ray. 

Aquinata and Gabriel work and pray, 

Blandina makes the sweetest pills, 

Fair Mary Joseph cures our ills, 

But Bessie and Jenny make up the bills. 

Mary Stephen guards the Nurses' Training 

School, 
Whilst Wilfred and Bertille observe the rule. 
I do nothing but invent or roam, 
And occasionally write a little poem. 



[70] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



The Price of War 

As Hell is War so War is Hell, 
A Sherman and a Dante tell. 
A million men dead on the plain 
Ten million more far worse than slain. 
This is the price of War. 

noble man ! O f reeborn man ! 
The highest being in God's plan, 
Why sacrifice to idol Mars, 
That mean, miserable, low god of Wars ? 
Our God is God alone. 

The battles roar on foreign shore 
Why bring us to their death? 
To kill our kin, the elder sin 
For greed or gold or wealth? 
No, never more. 

To end the War, to end the War, 
Oh Prince of Peace draw near ! 
Our homes, our lives, our very souls 
Are wrapt in War's dread fear. 
Why kill our brother man? 

[7i] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

Our Eagle mates with British lion, 
The price will be our Nation's sin. 
A mongrel brood will soon arise 
Like serpent's teeth to crush our cries 
To crush our press, to crush our speech. 

Heed we our noble Washington's plea 
"Never mix with alien's troubled sea," 
The Briton loves dominions rule 
Let us not bow before his school. 
No, never, never more. 

Let voice of Freedoms people rise 
And swear beneath the vaulted stars; 
We'll fight at home for native land, 
But never seek for foreign Wars. 
We'll swear, for evermore! 

The lust of gold is firecest lust 

And the yellow is branded in, 

The harlot's shame would be on our brow, 

If we are one with the harlot's sin. 

The Prince of Peace hath said the word, 
"Who draws the sword shall die by the sword" 
This is the Price of War and Sin. 



[72] 




FATHER GLYNN'S PARISH CHURCH, 
BROWNSVILLE, PA. 
St. Peter's Catholic Church, where he 
labored most successfully many years. 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Our Lord Left the Ninety and Nine 

"Laugh and. the World laughs with you, 
Weep and you may weep alone." 

Some folk may not know others' sorrows, 
They may have sorrows deep of their own. 

No man can be neutral to others, 
Or forget that his neighbor's humane. 

Remember, we are all brothers ; 

We should soothe each other's sorrow and 
pain. 

The good that we do for our brother 
Will reward us even here with joy; 

The cup of water we give to another 
Will bring us eternal bliss on High. 

In Life's fierce contest, 

Don't praise too much the winner; 
Remember our Lord left the ninety and nine 

And sought the wandering sinner. 



[73] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Ode 

To Sister De Paul Brennen of Providence Hospital 

Peace hath her conquests more than war; 

Charity rules when armies fail. 
When love Divine enshrines the hearts of men, 

The Heavens proclaim their love. 
Not all who wear the crown reAvard of merit 
bear, 
Purple and fine linen oft a bauble, price or 

favor wear. 
All hail — 
Farewell, Sister De Paul (a sweet farewell.) 
Providence Hospital now weeps with joy 
and sorrow wed 
That thou art gone. No more thy stately 
form 
With firm but gentle voice shall fill its halls. 
Thy task is done; others now must come to 
take thy place. 

Complete the work that thou hast begun; 
But when we turn time backward in its flight 
What scenes we see! 

[74] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

Six years yet scare have flown 
Since Sister De Paul began her noble work — 
To build this house for God's infirm and poor. 
The walls in Reeves' old manse were cold and 

bare; 
The cricket sang his song beneath the hearth. 

Serena, with Vicentia and Maria Joseph 

fair — 
These four Black Caps that gave this house 

its birth — 
What did they fear when Providence the helm 

did guide? 
The dim religious light soon filled the chapel- 
hall. 
The Virgin's grotto, where virgins virgin call. 
Effulgent grace whate'er betide doth now 

abound. 
Its noble walls to Heaven now proudly rise, 
But many a tear was shed and prayer oft rent 

the skies 
Before success was sure — before was won the 

prize, 
Providence Hospital, that sits near Beaver's 

Vale and Falls. 
What stories thou couldst tell couldst speak 

thy walls, 

[75] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

Of joys and sorrows, pain and grief and woe, 
The poignant pangs of stern reality we all must 

know; 
The grace triumphant that o'ereomes the strife, 
And angel-virgins lead us to a better life. 

All hail, Providence Hospital — All hail, Sister 

De Paul ! 
Like Paul himself, thou are all things to all; 
Thy hands were ever open to charity 's sweet call. 
Thou art indeed a Brennen on the Moor, 
When Charity called thou didst see Christ at 

the door. 



[76] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



The Poor Sparrow 

Friend hast thou time to hear of Joy and Woe ? 
One eve I sat within my vine clad portico, 
Reading of heroes, both great and small, 
Of War and Peace, of Heaven and Hell, 
Of men and money, and all who wait the final 

knell, 
When with a shriek a sparrow poor flew near 

the wall. 
A sudden storm had spoilt her fledgling's home, 
And hurled her dearies to the world below. 
But the pity of it, the woe, 
A fox -like cat, just then perchanced to roam; 
No Spartan ever fought a braver fight, 
Than that poor sparrow fought that night. 
And when I placed her birdies safe above, 
I thought poor sparrow, like to me in woe and 

love, 
Thou art a roamer upon this world so fair, 
To clean the streets, to shrill the air, 
To pick the bridal rice before my church's door, 
And share it with thy young where'er they soar. 



[77] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 
The Hospital Grotto 

Adapted by the Jubilarian 

A man, all city, weary too, 

A breath of balm, it makes him dream — 
In youth a garden old he knew; 

He saw it in the star-light gleam. 
Again he viewed the blossoms rare, 

Whose scent on every breeze was blown; 
And in his dream he wandered there: — 

But there he wandered not alone! 

The story here might have its end 

Had not the man a poet been, 
But midnight saw him sadly wend 

Back to his garret there to lean 
Above a table while he wrote 

How Life and Fate had done him wrong; 
And with an aching heart and throat 

He shrined his sorrow in a song. 

The poem printed o'er his name 

By land and sea spread far and wide, 

[78] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

It turned the tide, it brought him fame 

And almost all Fate had denied. 
But what is all alas without 

The sweetest guerdon life can bring, 
Ay what is life with love left out? 

A barren worthless bitter thing. 

Haply when fortune turns, sometime, 

It turns indeed and brings its best; 
"With patience list my simple rhyme 

A moment further — hear the rest: 
The Poet's song, it strayed at last 

To that old garden on the hill 
The Virgin's Grotto of the past, 

The minstrel's sweetheart, waiting still. 

What happened next, you ask. "Well well, 

If you can't guess, 'tis very droll; 
It is not, sir, true art to tell 

Of any story quite the whole. 
Now Betsey maid, who writes for me, 

Think you she fancied she'd set free 
The ending of a romance gay? 

Serene in Hospital Grotto, there's Jubilee 
today. 



[79] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



My Trained Nurse 

Tender, loving, gentle and true, 

Science made the doctors, 
But God made you. 

Pretty and graceful, cheerful and fair, 

Society has cold etiquette 
But thou art debonair. 

Kindest and sweetest purer than gold, 

The world has its queens. 
But you never grow old. 

Early and late thou dost sit by my side. 

Thou art my guardian angel 
No harm shall betide. 

When weary and sad from the ills of life, 

Thou dost cheer me, console me 
And help me in the strife. 

Tender, loving, gentle and true, 

Science made the doctors, 
But God made you. 

[8o] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Irish Canary's Freedom Song 

Oh, would that my heart could utter 

The thoughts that arise in me, 
As I hear the canary's soul song 

Complaint for liberty. 
Hast thou heard the canary's liberty song, 
Its rapturous carol all day long? 
I have heard the mocking bird 

And Galli-Curci true; 
I have heard sweet Patti 

And Ireland's John McCormaek, too. 
The symphonies and rhapsodies 

Of Damrosch rich and rare, 
Yet none of those in harmony 

With my Irish canary can compare. 
How oft distract I try to pray 

With formal ceremony, 
When my little yellow fellow 

Laughs me to shame with prayerful melody. 
From lowest G to highest C 
With coloratura and miserere, 
No scale was yet so high or long 
As to hold my little Irish fellow's 

[81] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

Soulful heartful song. 

An English bishop said one day, 

With hypocritic roundelay: 

"My little friend, I pity thee." 

"Then why not make me free," he plead. 

' ' Ah ! only yesterday at that 

I saw an English sinful cat, 

Thou shouldst a willing prisoner be 

Lest that evil eat should murder thee." 



[82] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Who Caused the High Cost of Living? 

Who caused the high cost of living? 

Not I, says the speculator, 

Though I may corner corn in my elevator, 

And some folks call me a manipulator, 

Yet blame me not for the high cost of living. 

Who caused the high cost of living? 

Not I, says the humble toiler, 

For a living wage I'm daily bent. 

To keep wifie and kids and pay the rent, 

I'm not the dark despoiler. 

Who caused the high cost of living? 
Not I, says the farmer, 
The false charge often makes me sweat, 
I work hard from sunrise to sunset, 
But I'm not quite a millionaire yet, 
Not I, says the farmer. 

Who caused the high cost of living? 

Not I, says the banker, 

I have not caused the canker, 

Money makes money, as bees make honey, 

Not I, says the banker. 

[83] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

Who caused the high cost of living? 
Not I, says the consumer, 
I am the victim of the gnawing tumor, 
High cost consumes the consumer, 
The subtle charge is a wicked rumor. 
Not I, says the consumer. 

Well, then, who did cause the high cost of 

living ? 
It was I, said Mars, the red god of wars, 
I was the first cause of the 
High cost of living, 
But now that the war is o 'er, I am the cause no 

more. 
And the false profiteer with his 100% lire, 
Is the real villian in the high cost of living. 



[84] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Father Anastasius Kreidt — Requiescat 
In Peace 

An Ambassador of Christ has died, 
Died as he mounted Calvary's Altar High, 
Bearing God's burden with humble joy 
Bowing his head, "Thy will be done," he cried. 

Oh the years he prayed and the tears he stayed 
The conversions of humble sinners he made, 
The records alone in Heaven can tell 
As he heard God's call at the final bell. 

How kindly he thanked me when I gave him 

Our Lord 
In daily Communion near the hospital ward. 
The heavenly smile on his radiant face 
Enshrined this great soul in a state of grace. 

He saw great souls in men, saints in women 

And the image of God in all, 
He served His God and helped his fellow men 

The Carmelite monk hears the last joyful call. 

[85] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



The Millenium Approaches 

Let Us Forgive Them Their Debts As 
They Forgive Their Debtors. 

If poor tremulous Europe would only disarm 
We might place them again on a paradise farm ; 
Forgive them their debts, as they forgive their 

debtors 
And prove to the world than none are our 

betters. 
If England would sink her navy to the depths 

of the sea, 
And with heroic sacrific set all Ireland free, 
The Avhole world would rejoice on a basis of 

gold, 
With Russia and Germany back in the fold, 
The commerce of all nations would flourish like 

Jericho's Rose, 
And the world would again return to a state of 

repose. 
With Peace on Earth, all men and Nations free, 

[86] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

We would give glory to God in Christian har- 
mony. 
America, God's Promised Land of Liberty, 
Forgive them their debts, and set the whole 
world free ! 



[87] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Mass Celebrated in Johnstown Under a Grape 
Arbor the First Sunday After the Disas- 
trous Flood at the Former Home of 
the Rev. Father J. R. Matthews 
Now of Washington, D. C* 

Under the grape arbor Father Taheny stood 
Noah like offered the Holy Sacrifice after the 

Flood. 
The beauteous bow of heaven shone o'er us then 
And we bowed to God's will with a grand amen. 
Sweetly the birds sang the Gloria's lines 
Whilst we served the Mass under the spreading 

vines. 
Melchisedec like we brought bread and wine 
And rang the bell gently 'neath the purpling 

vine. 
Moses worshipped God in the Tabernacle Tent 
The Lord God of Hosts was pleased and content. 
The honor had we an honor most rare 
Of offering the Holy Sacrifice in God's sweet 

air. 
The Majesty of Heaven and the Angels were 

there 
And under the canopy of heaven we communed 

in prayer. 



* He has recently been elevated and become the Rt. Rev. 
Mgr. J. R. Matthews. 

[88] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



The Yellowstone. Night's Plutonian 
Shore 

Old Homer, Virgil and Dante dread 
Depict the eternal regions of the dead. 
Poe's Raven darkly brings us visions more 
That draw our minds to Night's Plutonian 

shore. 
But all hell's havoc and all hell's fire 
Must have combined here in this infernal fire. 
On the hills above my own Johnstown I stood 
In awe the morn after the fatal Flood, 
But never, never more can poet pen 
Such sombre scenes as fill this awful glen. 
On old Yellowstone's Fire Hole river 
We may still see Charon on the Styx 
And Erebus and the dreaded Nox, 
The boat filled with dead souls, souls that 

quiver, 
Pluto and Vulcan are most busy here 
And Minos brings to judgement all this sphere. 
At last the Canyon's yawning maw 
Engulfs the sordid souls that once defied God's 

Law. 

[89] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



The Patient Nun 

One year on Hospital bed she has lain 
Although her limbs are racked with constant 

pain 
Yet never a murmur does this Nun complain. 
Slowly the clock ticks through the long night 
And the Nurse comes in to make the pillow 

right, 
But patience sweet patience is this good Nun's 

delight. 
The long night gives way to the grey morn 

without fears 
It means Communion time when Our Lord 

appears 
United in prayer united in love 
She communes with Our Lord and his angels 

above. 



[90] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



What Does It Profit a Man? 

The majestic Blaine, Knight of the flowing Plume 
Served Twenty Years in Congress Halls, 
Thrice had he the Presidency within his calls, 
Yet Providence consigned him to an unsung 

Tomb. 
What does it profit any mortal man 
Who may know all things in pliant nature's 

• plan ? 
Who knows the inmost secrets of the earth 
Yet disowns the Creator Who gives them birth ? 
Where now is Cheops his slaves and Queen so 

bland? 
All gone but the mummy and the Pyramid 

grand. 
Where now is Alexander and his conquered 

worlds? 
Demosthenes who his Philippics hurls? 
Where now is the mighty Caesar his Omnia 

Gallia pride ? 
Dashed on the shores of time's rebounding tide. 
Where now is Cicero and the great Democracy 

of Rome ? 

[9i] 



FATHEE GLYNN'S POEMS 

Crumbled is the Forum not a stone upon a stone. 

So pass we all unto the slimy sod, 

The Creator alone remains the same The 

Almighty God. 
Still, "What does it profit a man? Who shall 

pay the toll? 
If he owned the whole world, yet loses his own 

soul? 



r 02 ] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 



Carnegie 

Come mellow muse and sing thy sweetest lay, 

Come sit with me beneath the olive tree 

And sing success and the master mind Carnegie. 

Sing of the orphaned boy and mother poor, 

When fate came coyly tapping at his door 

He grasped her fast and ne'er would let her 

pass 
Until she yielded all her golden store. 
Industry and thrift oft makes for more than 

college lore. 
To choose his Schwab and gain his love and 

mind, 
"YOU cannot fail he said, failure is not your 

kind, 
And I will help you build up to the sky, 
Failure is but the weakling's envious cry." 
The monuments he built more endurable than 

brass 
Will preach his praises until time shall pass. 
He claimed to love and help his fellow men 
To help themselves. Of science he had little 

ken. 

[93] 



FATHER GLYNN'S POEMS 

Yet, behold his gifts, Carnegie Institute so 
grand, 

Pine Arts, Music, Libraries and Technic, Col- 
lege Funds, 

God's holy temples with his big organ's solemn 
roar 

May give him final welcome to the golden shore. 



[94] 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



015 897 314 5 



